Something's coming. Do you hear it? Can you see it? Trundling across the common, following the old hollow ways, sauntering down the lane, rocking up into the market square, laying out its wares. It reels you in with mysteries, trades with you fantastic tales, spins for you fascinating stories. Stories like the Haunted Pound Stretcher, flying saucers, poisoners and body snatchers, haunted woodland, and the secret tunnels beneath our feet. Weird in the Wade is on its way, a podcast that explores everything that is weird, wonderful, and a little off kilter in the town of Biggleswade in Bedfordshire. If you like your spooky stories told with a dash of historical context, or you like your history with a pinch of the paranormal, then this is the podcast for you. Never miss an episode. Subscribe to Weird in the Wade, wherever you're listening now. Japan isn't just temples and cherry blossoms. It's haunted castles, urban legends, yokai lurking in the shadows, and true crime cases where something doesn't quite add up. Supernatural Japan dives into Japan's darkest folklore, real history, and mysteries that still disturb the present. From ghosts of ancient warriors to modern legends whispered online, every episode blends culture, crime, and the unexplained. If you love spooky history, Japanese folklore and stories that stay with you long after the episode ends, search for Supernatural Japan, because in Japan, the past is never really gone. Welcome to Weekly Creep, a mostly paranormal podcast hosted by me, Adam, and me, Dulce. We like to talk about all things strange and spooky. We've covered everything from werewolves to poultry eyes, survival stories, and even a little weird nature, because why not? We also enjoy reading listener stories and talking about movies, books, TV shows, and games that we're really into at the moment. Or going to spooky places and chatting about our experiences, like when I may have received a telepathic image of a little ghost girl at the Stanley Hotel. Or when I heard high heels walking around my home in the middle of the night. Anyway, there's over 100 episodes of Weekly Creep already on our feed, so look us up wherever you get your podcasts and get caught up. Using their phone lines, people logged in from all over America to talk about sports, games, movies, and on one BBS in particular. Share their ghost stories. Over time, those communities all went dark, except for one, lone server that continues to operate somewhere in an unknown part of Pennsylvania's Rust Belt. A relic of the 1990s, veiled in mystery, it is a digital archive of humanity's strangest encounters with the unknown, as told by the people who experience them. My name is Brandon Schecksneider, and you are listening to Fear Daily. And March 2, 1994. Does a house have to be old to be haunted? I ask because my wife Trudy and I built this house on a parcel of land that had been empty since the Jumanu people vanished, and yet there's definitely some kind of something going on. Now, I don't know that what's happening is ghosts exactly, but I've only got so many words to describe these things. Like I said before, Trudy and I had this place built in the early 80s after I finally made some real money. We had intended to raise a family here, but medical complications got in the way, and after taking some time to mourn, we decided to devote our time to animals instead. We turned our 200 acres into a shelter for all creatures, big and small, and while I know it's not the same as having children of our own, we've never wanted for love. As you might imagine, the shelter is a full-time endeavor, and it doesn't leave us a lot of downtime. In recent years, we've managed to increase our revenue and donations to the point where we can have some part-time help come in and give us a little time off. Sometimes, I wonder if the things I've seen are actually new, or if they've always been here, and I'm only noticing them because of the breathing room we've had lately. The first thing happened when we were in bed. I woke up from a nightmare about something I don't recall exactly what, and lay there in the dark listening to Trudy's breathing. You know how in horror movies, people will see something in the dark, panic, and then realize that the whole time they've been looking at a coke rack or stack of laundry? It was the opposite for me. I woke up and assumed the floral pattern I was seeing in the corner of the room was one of Trudy's dresses hanging on the wall. It was not. When I looked, really looked, I saw that there was a dress in the corner, but it was being worn by a woman I didn't recognize. She was older than us, maybe late 50s, and appeared benign. It was like she was just watching us. When she saw me finally noticing her, she smiled before raising one white-gloved hand and giving a little wave. In an instant, she was gone. Over breakfast the next morning, I told Trudy about what I'd seen and she gave me the cocked eyebrow look normally reserved for one of my bad ideas. She comes from a religious family and rejected all that outright after leaving home, so the notion of ghosts wasn't one she put much stock in. I pleaded my case as best I could, but she assured me I had to have been dreamy. After all, she said we're the first people to live here. Of course, we weren't, not really, but I don't know that the Jumanu people were big on floral dresses, so I had to concede the point. The next thing to happen wasn't so whimsical, and is what finally drove me to this board. When it happened, Trudy was away at her sister's house and I was in the living room kicking up in my easy chair about to take another stab at reading Shogun. One of her dogs, a big black lab named Charlie, was sitting next to me on his bed, loudly snoozing away. It was just before 5pm and I looked up from my book because the light coming through the living room blinds looked wrong. It was too deep and too orange. In the winter, the sun sets here around 520, so you expect to see a glow as it goes down, but this was extreme. I got up from my chair and looked outside to see if there was any reason for the change, but nothing looked unusual. Standing in front of the window as I was, the light I'd seen cast against the wall should have been blocked, but when I turned around, it was still there and I couldn't look away. That orange glow was so strong it practically vibrated and I felt my stomach start to knot up. Then the edges of the room started to go dark, not the edges of my vision, but the room as if it was filling up with thick black smoke that blocked out everything but the sick sunset. The knot in my stomach got worse like I was about to throw up this sandwich and black coffee I'd had for lunch or maybe just pass out. Just then, Charlie began to bark and the air pressure in the room changed so quickly, my ears popped. As they did, the darkness receded like it was being sucked up with a vacuum and the nausea subsided completely. Charlie kept barking, running up to the wall where I'd seen the over-saturated patch of orange light as if he was trying to run it off. It was shrinking, whether because of something he was doing or some other factor I couldn't identify in. Within seconds, it winked out of existence just like the woman in our bedroom had. When it was finally gone, Charlie gave one final so-there bark and went back to his bed. I picked up my discarded paperback and flopped down in my chair next to him, feeling exhausted and mystified in equal measure. I haven't been that tired since the early days of the shelter when we were working 12-14 hours to keep the lights on. Has anyone out there experienced something like this before? Are the two experiences somehow related? My family has no history of mental disturbances and even if they did, that wouldn't explain Charlie reacting the way he did and what would have happened if he wasn't here? Looking for a hauntingly unique podcast this spooky season? Listen to I Talk to Ghost for chilling ghost stories, genuine in-studio medium readings, and a virtual seance table where the spirits have an opportunity to speak directly to you. Find I Talk to Ghost on all the fine podcast apps including Apple Podcasts, Spotify and YouTube. Happy Haunting! Signing up for your $1 a month trial at Shopify.com. My grandparents used to live in a nice little World War II-era house that sat on the corner of a busy intersection in Branson, Missouri. It was white with a concrete veranda facing toward the road that got hit a good three or four times over the years by speeding cars that missed the turn. I was alive for the last hit and man, if you've never heard a car smash full-on into a concrete wall at speed, you have no idea what loud really is. The driver survived, which was great for him and for me, just seeing the accident was bad enough without also having to watch a man die. My grandma died of pneumonia in 1988, leaving my grandfather to fend for himself. He was an old school kind of guy, which his code for pays the bills but is incapable of managing a household. So my sister Mimi spent a lot of time over there keeping up the house. After about a year, Mimi called a family meeting and said she couldn't keep the pace up anymore. The between looking after grandpa and his house plus her full-time job, she was at her wit's end. She also had noticed some cognitive decline in grandpa during her visits and was worried he might end up hurting himself or someone else if left alone for too long. After a lot of soul searching and some hard conversations with him, we all decided together it was best if he moved into an assisted living facility. I've got to say that I have so much respect for how he handled those conversations, he had no idea how bad his non-elusive episodes had become and completely supported his moving. My grandfather was and remains a real gentleman and I hope to God that when my time comes, I can conduct myself even half as honorably as he has. After the decision was made, he called his lawyer and had him draw up all the necessary paperwork to transfer ownership of his assets into a trust for the family. He said this would make the process of emptying and selling the house easier for us as well as less than the financial burden down the road when he finally left us. It took another month to find an appropriate facility and get him moved in and he took to it about as well as anyone could hope for. I could tell it wasn't the same for him as living at home but it was the best arrangement possible under the circumstances. After the house was cleared out, we sold it to a local couple named Beth and Gary. Gary and I had gone to high school together and they'd just moved back from Springfield to start a family. Maybe two weeks after they moved in, Gary came to see me in the hardware store. Now, Gary might be a Democrat but he's not a nut so when he asked me if anything weird had ever happened in Grandpa's house, I had no idea he meant ghosts. I said that the upstairs windows were new and the roof had been replaced in 89 so if any of it were leaking, he'd want to speak to the people who'd done the work but he waved me off. The house was fine, he said, but his wife had had some trouble. I'll never forget the way he said it, trouble like her car wouldn't start or something. I asked what kind of trouble and he looked at the floor for a minute and said she'd been seen a woman in the bedroom every night since they moved in. That's off to Gary, no man had ever rendered me speechless before but that did it. I just stared at him while he drew himself up and went on. Each time he said it, started with the bedroom door slamming. Not the sound of it slamming but actual slamming, so hard you could hear the knob rattle. It was a deep sleeper he said so he didn't ever hear it but it always woke Beth right up. Once she was up, she saw a woman about her age walk from the doorway to the foot of her bed. According to Beth, the woman looked sad and confused before fading away. Like I said before, I didn't know how to respond to Gary except to say that this had never come up before but I'd ask around and see if maybe Mimi or someone else had something to offer. I called Mimi after work and of course she was excited, she is definitely a ghost person and wanted to know more. I gave her Beth and Gary's number and told her to have at it. A week later she called me and this is what she said. After my call she got a hold of Beth and invited her over to the house for coffee. She asked her to describe the woman she'd been seeing and then Mimi brought out a photo album. Being into ghost and spooky stuff I guess she had some ideas of how this was going to go. She asked Beth to leaf through the album and see if anyone in there looked familiar. Sure enough a few pages in, Beth drew a sharp breath and said her. Her was my grandmother of course and I suppose I should have seen it coming. What makes it even more unusual though is that the photo she'd pointed out wasn't my granny as she died but her grandmother was my grandmother. Her as a young woman. Whatever doubts I might have had about this being some kind of fancy cooked up by Beth and Gary for whatever reason went away because she might have known what granny looked like at the end but there was no way she could have guessed how she looked 60 years before. I guess Mimi told Beth that the next night my grandmother appeared she should tell her that we had helped Norm and my grandpa move somewhere he could be looked after properly. Well when she did my grandmother's ghost had according to Beth given her a warm smile before fading away. To the best of my knowledge she's yet to return. Sometimes I wonder if she visits my grandfather up at the home but never asked. Moments where he's really him are fewer and more far between these days and I feel like when we do have time together it's not my place to pry but I do feel better knowing she'll be there to receive him when he finally crosses over. Zahl Places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to real events or locations is entirely coincidental. Ad-free versions of Fear Daily are available now on your favorite podcast apps. For more information, visit feardaily.com. But move fast before the server goes offline. The story is about a person who has a paranormal experience. Hi, I'm Cassie, and I've always been fascinated by people's real-life paranormal experiences. That's why I started Tell Me Your Ghost Story podcast. Each episode, I sit down with someone who's had an encounter with the paranormal, and they share their story in their own words. There's a shadow about the size of a person, and it slowly turns around. It reveals a pure white face, empty eye sockets. He goes, I used to live here. He's like, I went to the war, and then I never came back. And then suddenly he was gone. On my way home, I called my wife, and I was like, I just delivered to the craziest place. You have to look it up and tell me what it is. I called with her and she looks up and says, David, this place is vacant. Whether you're here for the spooky, the storytelling, or both, Tell Me Your Ghost Story has you covered. Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast app. I'm Annie from Boston, Massachusetts. And I'm Johanna from Vienna, Austria. We're the hosts of Fresh Hell, your international podcast that covers murder, mystery, and the macabre throughout history. Are you interested in the 3,569 ways your household could have killed you in the Victorian era? Do you know how malaria and syphilis played a role in the John List family murders? And have you ever wondered what Prince Albert's sex chair had to do with the murder of Stanford White? Okay, nothing. It had nothing to do with it. We're still telling you about it, though. It's a pretty great sex chair. If you're looking for another show that talks about Ted Bundy, this is probably not the podcast for you. But if you're looking for two women that cover lesser known cases from all over the world with a lot of background information. So much background information that you will rock your local pub quiz from now on. Then find Fresh Hell Podcast on your favorite podcast app. We also have German cannibals. See you soon. Tschüss.
